Hollywood in Thedas: Volume I
by CthuLuna
Summary: A series of one-shots inspired by classic movies. Volume I includes adventures of the Wardens. This will be added to periodically, suggestions welcome in reviews if there's a particular movie you'd want to see done. So far the original movies are Jaws and Ghostbusters. Resident Evil and Men in Black coming soon!
1. Jaws

**Jaws**

Major players – Aedan Cousland, Alistair, Riordan, Oghren, Shale, Morrigan… The rest have smaller cameos, I tried to include all the good guys.

Rating M for drunkenness and character death. This fic is all about the final battle, how is someone NOT going to die?

AN: Writing this gave me a good excuse to watch the movie again, one of my favorite films as a kid. Characters and plot belong to Bioware, some lines belong to Hollywood. And I know Riordan is actually Ferelden (from Highever and all that), it's just easier to refer to him as Orlesian.

* * *

"_Farewell and adieu to you, fair Rivaini ladies._ Hic." The red haired dwarf wiped spittle from his lip with the back of his gauntlet. "_Farewell and adieu you ladies of Rivain, for we've received orders for the ride back to Den'rim. Now take off yer dress so I can see tits again!_" The drunk dwarf ended his solo with a lecherous laugh and rewarded himself with another gulp of ale. The blonde templar-warden beside him shook his head, his eyes crossed from the motion.

The news of the archdemon's appearance scared him just as much as the thought of being king did. He couldn't confide in his friend, Aedan Cousland, oh no. He was holed up in his room with his lady love – that sneaky, evil bitch Morrigan. But the good side of that was Alistair finally got to get drunk, even if he had to sit downwind of Oghren to do so. The two of them sat on stools in the kitchens at Redcliffe castle with Riordan, pint in hand, thinking of more songs to sing. Leliana probably knew some. But she'd pull out her flute and play something mournful – something that made him remember he was probably going to die sooner than his thirty years of taint allowed.

"_Show me the way to go home_…" he began slurring. The Orlesian warden beside him turned lyrium blue eyes to the young templar, vaguely recognizing the song. "_I'm tired an' I wanna go to bed_," Alistair was waiting for his voice to crack. He wasn't a good singer sober.

Riordan's grinned past the scruff that went ear to ear. The three continued in unison. "_I had a little drink about an hour ago and it's gone right to my head. Oh, wherever I may roam_…"

Wynne followed the sounds of alcohol induced merriment, smiling at the one, two, three hangovers she would have to heal in the morning.

* * *

_Thank the Maker for magic_, Alistair thought as he ran toward the gates of Denerim. Oghren 'borrowed' several bottles of whiskey from Redcliffe castle, they spent the past three nights drinking and laughing as if they weren't heading straight towards a battle that could go just as horribly wrong as Ostagar. Denerim very well could be the site where the Theirin line ends.

The city gates were ajar, they could get in two by two, which Alistair hoped didn't mean an ogre had passed through among all the darkspawn. They entered the courtyard, it was littered by darkspawn and Denerim soldiers, the darkspawn proved to be the victors over the first wave. When the wardens and Redcliffe army charged, the darkspawn taunted them by snarling and slitting the throats of the captive soldiers. The wardens met the river of blood before they collided with the darkspawn – they were not as strong as the ones from the Deep Roads, not by far. They were not swift, staring dumbly at shining blades that slashed at their faces, beheaded them, ran them through. _A bit of luck?_ Alistair wondered. Only minutes into battle, he had slain dozens of darkspawn. His trusty shield, formerly Duncan's, had deflected arrows, swords, even the flames from darkspawn emissaries. The worst the templar suffered was burning in the back of his throat where darkspawn blood had splashed, choking him silent from one of his war cries.

He knew from the voices around him that his companions fared similarly. His Commander and future Chancellor, Aedan Cousland mocked the twisted creatures that fell to his daggers, Wynne continued to cast rejuvenation spells, healing those careless enough to be caught by a stray swipe of darkspawn weapons. He could hear giggles and haughty taunts from the nasty, deadly witch. The shouts from a voice as beautiful as a bell, offering mercy and blessings to the dead, the chuckling of the Antivan elf. Grunts from qunari, golem, and dwarf. Finally, the darkspawn numbers dwindled enough to have the remainders flee. He heard Riordan's rallying cry. "Press forward!" The senior warden wiped each dagger on the other, shaving the ichor that tainted the metal.

Alistair wiped darkspawn gunk off his face, and scraped the same reeking substances off his blade with his boot. He was fussing to himself, watching a few mindless darkspawn continue to spill from the city gates. "You heard him, press forward. Press forward, yeah, I'll press forward as far as forward goes." He stopped muttering when every vein pulsed red hot, his head snapped up so he could look at the skies – catch a glimpse of a massive, purple tinted black dragon flying high overhead. It circled the towers as if they were mere twigs it could not perch on, its blackness threatened to bleed into the sky until it blotted out the sun. Alistair looked at Shale as she stomped the small grunts effortlessly, but she could not compare to even an ogre in size. The warden backed slowly until Riordan was near him. "You're gonna need a bigger golem."

Riordan caught sight of the archdemon overhead as the templar pointed his concerns out. His face turned to stone with determination. Four archdemons fell to warriors like himself, the man beside him, and the noble duelist that had united the armies of Ferelden. He had a gut feeling this battle would be the end.

"We need to travel to the top of Fort Drakon. That is where we will lure the archdemon and face it. There are two ballistae there, call the army you wish to face the creature with us. The Redcliffe army will remain here to guard the gates." His gravely voice and cultured accent made every plan sound suave.

"Got it." Alistair ran for Aedan, sharing the plan with his commander.

* * *

The three wardens, golem, dwarf, and witch ascended to the rooftop of Fort Drakon. They faced countless darkspawn on the way there – hundreds, no doubt about it. Their armor, crystallized pebbles, and robes were covered in blood. Any attempt to wipe the sticky fluids off was pointless – the stains were set and anything short of some alchemical concoction wouldn't clean them.

Aedan threw back the door. The archdemon perched on the far side of the tower lowered its head and parted its jaws to release an ear splitting shriek. Darkspawn poured from the other two doorways leading from the floor below. Aedan and his companions rushed forward to clear congestion from the doorway, allowing the army of dwarves to engage the darkspawn. The wardens would directly challenge Urthemiel – first they needed to make sure he would stay grounded. Riordan and Alistair ran to man a ballista, Aedan drew his bow and Morrigan turned into a spider. The transformed witch scurried through the battling darkspawn and dwarves to climb up the wall the former Dragon of Beauty occupied. Its head swiveled when it felt the large spider on it, two large fangs dripping with poison sunk into the skin of its wing. The dragon flicked its wing to shake the spider off, the spider's foothold was too unsteady to keep from falling – the weight of its body dragged its fangs through the wing, slicing completely through until there was no more wing to tear. The spider fell on its back, legs drew into a cage to protect its vulnerable underbelly, and the witch turned human once more. Her knees were drawn up by her chin, legs kicked out in a sweep to bring her back to her feet.

The wardens still shot at the dragon. When Morrigan tore its wing, it had roared, all of its massive spindly teeth were bared to the sky as it expressed its pain. The archdemon tried to take off, but the cold wind clipped at the ribbon of wing that flapped loosely. Only several feet were covered before the dragon returned to the ground where it would remain until the pests were dealt with.

Bolts pierced at its chest and shoulders, but arrows bounced off of scales. Aedan changed his target to the soft flesh under its jaw. One arrow struck true as the dragon's head loomed over the commander, Urthemiel snorted when it felt the arrow pierce into its mouth, the arrowhead sliced its tongue. Its head lowered to spit fire at the archer, but Riordan turned the ballista with painfully slow speed and shot three bolts into its face – each side of its snout was shot as well as the sensitive middle. The flames that licked past the creature's teeth abruptly ended as it reared its head once more to wail.

Since their foe was grounded, Riordan rushed to it, daggers drawn and flask full of poison in hand. He bit the cork off the top and coated his blades with the poison. Its acid would eat through the scales and reveal the sensitive muscles underneath, ripe for clipping and butchering. Oghren already had his battleaxe doing considerable damage on its hind leg. Tendons were hacked and the entire leg was deadened by the bolts still being shot in its thigh. Shale was at the other hind foot, punching for the chance it would break one of the bones on its arch.

Its head was near the ground again, massive jaws snapped at the wardens. Alistair abandoned his ballista due to its slow reload and ran to join his brothers. With each snap the archdemon lunged with, Alistair's gut clenched. Once his teeth would sink, there was no way whoever the snack was would be able to live – if the unlikely happened at it only got that one bite, they would likely bleed to death from the massive spike.

Only one strike in was he before the archdemon jerked its head to the side, knocking Riordan down with a face slam. Riordan was sprawled on the ground. Both forepaws swept to the side to knock the other wardens back, neither were swift enough to dodge it. They were able to sit up, but their Orlesian companion was trying to clear his head from the damage and accompanying amnesia. His blue eyes widened when he saw the archdemon's massive teeth nearing. In desperation, he tried kicking his legs against anything but its mouth. Its snout was too high, but its bottom jaw scraped along the stone floor, Riordan's boots met it and he was pushed along the ground.

Icicles formed around Urthemiel's face, but Morrigan was unable to freeze it solid with the limited mana she had left. The archdemon's tongue darted out, snaking under Riordan's legs enough to lift them over its teeth and bite down. The warden bellowed when his legs were bitten off completely. He could barely hear the cries from his fellow wardens over his own scream and the blood pounding in his ears. The pain peaked again when he stared at massive fangs, chomping further up his body. His torso was being ripped by its incisors, his scream was broken into gurgles by the blood that rose up his throat and was spat into his own eyes. All cries stopped when the row of greatsword sized teeth passed beyond his chest. Alistair and Aedan stared in horror while the archdemon grinned large bloody teeth at them, Morrigan shook her head in frustration and finished the lyrium potion she took.

Morrigan was standing in an area clear of battle, she continued casting fire and ice, spirit and nature spells. While she charged a spell, Urthemiel took notice. A wing flapped to shield itself, the skin reflected Morrigan's arcane damage – her blood turned acidic within her veins. Every limb felt like they had been set alight with flame, her face and chest burned, her slim fingers twitched from the heat that coursed through them. She couldn't move, it was her weight alone that forced her to crumple to her knees. Her pride was wounded, her anger flared at being made a fool of by the soul she would have revered if not for its alien corruption. The spell would last several minutes and the pain paralyzed her. She remained curled over on one knee.

Aedan drew his lips back in a snarl, Morrigan was unmoving but alive – he still had to take revenge on the strike against his woman. He beheaded the shriek he had been toying with, freeing himself to charge at the archdemon. The same offending wing lashed out again, it scooped Aedan up on the canvas of skin and sent him flying. His body would have soared over the edge, but one of the pillars stopped his fall. It stole his consciousness as well, the stone clipped the back of his head and he slid down the wall, vision going dark.

Oghren raised his battleaxe high over his head and cleaved at the distracted archdemon's throat. He retreated when black talons slashed his direction. Shale punched the hinge of its jaw hoping to break and stiffen it, preventing the beast from consuming any more of her squishy companions. The golem grimaced at the shredded leather that once adorned the Orlesian warden stuck between its teeth. Alistair abandoned his longsword and shield, he picked up a greatsword that was embedded in a nearby corpse, he was unable to tell whether it was genlock or dwarven, all the bodies on the floor looked like the next. He held the hilt of the dagger by his hip, the blade stuck from his waist like a metallic erection. When the archdemon grinned once more, turning its gaze to the templar before him, Alistair's face smoothed with resolve. He waited for its mouth to open and snap at him. Within seconds, he saw his chance.

"Smile, you son of a bitch!" He was staring at the roof of its mouth and sent the greatsword into it like a spear. The metal cracked the plate with a crunch and was sent into its brain. Urthemiel screamed its last before erupting into a ball of pure white energy. Alistair seemed blinded and frozen. He couldn't tell whether he was flying, falling, or very very still.

When the blast from the archdemon's demise cleared he found he was still standing. The sword was no longer in his hands, and the archdemon lay before him, the greatsword stuck out from its mouth, but was embedded deeply. There was a moment of deathly silence – broken by whooping and cheering behind him - two booming voices, howling in victory. Aedan walked toward his fellow warden, nursing his head in one hand and drawing back his other to give Alistair a mighty 'pat' on the back. The meeting of gauntlet and cuirass resound with a 'clang' and sent the templar staggering forward while he stared at the fallen foe in disbelief. Short bursts of breath escaped his throat, together they formed a broken, incredulous chuckle. "We did it!" Alistair's grin dimmed when the usual cocky and arrogant Aedan stared towards the horizon with something akin to sorrow. Alistair gave his brother in arms a pat on the shoulder, catching his attention. The commander turned back to him with obvious effort to smile through whatever heartache befell him.

"Morrigan's gone," he reported. Aedan's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

"Oh, I… I didn't see her fall-" He looked around, expecting to see a corpse in the shape of the beautiful, bitchy witch he could never get along with, but traveled alongside for Aedan's sake. Among the bodies on the roof, dwarven and darkspawn, it could have taken several minutes to locate her.

"No, it's not that. She's just gone." Aedan raised a palm to wipe his brow, ignoring Alistair's confused expression. He forced himself to smile, an expression that did not reach his eyes. "Come, brother, let us be off this rooftop. The Blight is won, and it reeks of darkspawn up here." Aedan rounded on his heel, not waiting for others to follow but walking slowly enough for them to keep up since they always did. Alistair, Oghren, and Shale fell into line behind him, each fixing their eyes upon the massive creature that spilled its tainted blood on the roof.

A crow above the carnage flew in a wide arc, yellow eyes watched rivulets of blood flow down the side of the tower. Not until the wardens – one warden in particular – were inside did it fly east, toward the Frostback Mountains.


	2. Blightbusters

**Blightbusters**

AN: Obviously based on Ghostbusters (from the title, plot and some lines are loosely based on it, mostly stuff from the beginning), a little fun with Duncan, Riordan, and Alistair pre-Ostagar, shortly after Alistair's joining. Little snipped scenes from their journey to Ostagar.

* * *

The young, blonde, and handsome ex-templar turned Grey Warden gulped loudly – louder than he expected to. Duncan turned his head slightly at the sound that portrayed the junior member's inexperience and obvious anxiety. Catching his gaze, the Warden-Commander gave him an encouraging nod. Alistair nodded back, sucking in any support his recruiter gave, and turned to watch the creature that had not noticed their presence.

He couldn't move himself forward, it was as if he was glued to the spot, in that uncomfortable squat even though his feet protested where the weight of himself and his armor was focused. Movement beside him made him jump, the grey-tinted blur of armor slunk its way around Duncan to squat closer to him. Riordan placed his hand on his shoulder, keeping dusty grey eyes locked on the shriek in the center of the clearing before them.

"It will sense us if we dally longer. Lead our charge, Alistair. We want to see your plan of attack," the eldest whispered. His palm rocked on Alistair's shoulder so his fingers could pat him into some sort of action. Riordan was the less patient of the senior wardens, but Duncan did not disagree with him at the time – the shriek was isolated and as the seconds ticked by, the risk of their discovery behind the bushes increased.

Alistair gestured to the other members to circle around with him. If they attacked from the south, southwest and southeast points of the clearing, with the giant tree standing north, the shriek would be backed into it in case it tried to scurry around to flank them. The three wardens were spaced behind the creature, with a huff Alistair gestured for them to sneak from behind the bushes or at least get a clear path to charge.

It would be a simple slaying, the low burn in his veins told him this was the only darkspawn in the immediate vicinity. There were no others near enough for the sounds of battle to be heard by any more of its kind. When a bead of sweat rolled into Alistair's eye, he winced – the salt burned and blurred his vision, but not enough for him to miss the pricking of the shriek's long ears. He breathed an 'uh-oh' to himself and bellowed, "Get it!" His long stride past the bush in front of him wasn't high enough, he stumbled out of the bushes but kept running forward. His steps were all that kept him from toppling face first into the ground, but he was slowed enough to let the shriek get its bearings when it whirled.

The shriek's spiky blackened teeth parted when it inhaled with force to create its awful noise. Alistair neared it, the shriek raised a scrawny hand to swipe at the warden's shield arm. His shield was by his hip as he ran, too slow to react properly and defend against the pre-emptive strike. He recovered from the scratch quickly since the armor took most of its damage. He swung his sword in a downward arc and hacked its neck. Blood poured from the wound, another scream came from the injured darkspawn. Another cleave is what it took to separate the darkspawn's head. Body and head fell before the warden in a bloody heap.

With a big grin, he raised his sword over his head, allowing the blood to drip from the blade to his straw colored hair and cheered at his own clumsy victory. "I got one!" The senior wardens stayed back after emerging from the bushes at Alistair's command. Riordan slowly sauntered towards Duncan, arms crossed and lips puckered as he mentally reviewed his assessment of the ex-templar.

"Are you sure about this lad?" His gravelly voice was low enough for Duncan to hear, but not so low as to have been unheard by Alistair if he would have stopped whooping.

"He showed impressive combative abilities when I saw him in the yard with the other templars. We can not judge him by his performance just now." Duncan's gut feeling then had been strong. He knew Alistair's potential, despite the amateurish display. Few would-be recruits impressed Duncan as Alistair had. The lad truly shined that day. With the shriek, he didn't even glow dimly.

"Ah," the Orlesian warden grinned. "Stage fright."

"Exactly." Both wardens began chuckling, the humor of the situation finally caught up to them. Duncan wondered just how long the others would tease the lad mercilessly when this story got out around the campfire.

Alistair walked to stand before the wardens, the large sum of blunders of what just occurred finally dawned on him. As grey and deep brown eyes turned on him, his cheeks turned a bright shade of scarlet.

"Um," he started lamely. "That wasn't my best moment."

"Thank the Maker," Riordan exclaimed. "I was truly worried for a moment." The playful smile that reached his eyes took most of the heat out of his words. Alistair managed to chuckle through the embarrassment. He fixed his gaze to the ground between Riordan and Duncan's feet, scratching the back of his head. The senior wardens walked past him to clear the corpse from the center of what was to be their camp.

* * *

Riordan started chuckling again. "Get it," he quoted. Alistair sighed, he truly wouldn't be able to live that one down.

"Yeah, I err… Got too excited?" He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. Riordan was rubbing the oils from the poultice into his skin and applying a more generous amount directly on the wound.

"You can do that with a woman and she'll forgive you. Darkspawn are harsher mistresses." Riordan winked at the frowning warden, proud of his metaphor. Duncan was less impressed.

"Don't worry, lad. Most wardens freeze up during their first encounter with darkspawn. They are horrible, twisted… 'mistresses.'" He ended with a slow turn towards his Orlesian companion, a spark of humor in his eyes despite the serious comfort he was trying to offer.

"It's not even that," Alistair whined. "It stared at me the whole time, even when I was cutting off its head, and it had the bug eyes. Creepy." Riordan tried to suppress his laughter as he headed toward the small pile of branches to start a fire.

* * *

Camp had been taken down an hour before, the three wardens walked in the woods, nearing Ostagar. They were silent, alert for any indication of darkspawn presence whether it was the corruption that tainted the land or the familiar burning in their veins. Behind them, some bushes rustled. Alistair, being in the rear, stopped in his tracks.

"Listen," he hissed. "Do you smell that?"

Riordan arched one of his bushy brows. "I never hear a smell, brother. What do they teach you in the chantry?" The corner of his mouth raised parallel with the eyebrow.

"I mean- you know. I think there's a bear behind us." The ex-templar was still whispering. His hands stilled while being held in midair in a comical pose. Duncan furrowed his brows, searching through taint to see if the creature was bereskarn, but he felt nothing other than his fellow wardens. A flash of brown darted across the line of trees behind Alistair, one that Riordan noticed too since he had turned around. Alistair whirled when the rustling was louder, nearer – a chestnut brown mabari trotted up to the wardens, panting and baring its teeth in a doggy grin. Riordan approached the 'bear' with a hand outstretched in a friendly gesture.

"A purebred mabari, quite an unusual find in the forest." The hound nosed Riordan's hand, wiping drool all over his leather glove. "If his master is nowhere around, I say he should come with us. Mabari have proven to be resistant to darkspawn blood in the past, or at least able to combat it with little attention from healers." The hound barked happily, shifting its paws in place to show its eagerness to go with them.

Alistair was all for the idea. "Hey, we have a pet now!" The three wardens and dog turned south to continue their journey. "What are we going to call him?"

Riordan scratched at his scruff in thought. "There was an old Ferelden scholar that was well studied in Tevinter lore, what did he call his dog? Zuul! Yes, that was the name."

Alistair cocked his head at the suggestion. "Zuul? That sounds like an archdemon's name. We should call it something normal. It looks like a she to me. How about Dana?"

Riordan waved him off. "There is no Dana, only Zuul." Duncan originally wanted no part of the argument, but upon hearing Riordan's dreadful contribution, he stepped in with responding trivia.

"The scholar you refer to also had a hound named Vinz, would that not be better? It's similar to the more common name Vince." Duncan wondered if his friend could argue with that logic or was he truly stuck on the name Zuul.

Riordan eyed the dog, trying to see which suited him more. "It wasn't just Vinz though, there was another part to the name. Vinz… Vinz… Vinz Clortho! Bleh, I don't like it. His name is Zuul."

"Oh great," Alistair complained. "The dog sounds like it's about to start manifesting with that name. If I wake up and see it floating and snarling four feet over my bedroll tonight, I'm blaming you."

They continued heading through the forest to Lothering, then beyond to scout the ruins of Ostagar. With the horde they recently discovered in the Korcari Wilds, the wardens wanted to call forth the armies to gather as far south as they could have them to keep the line of creatures from surging north. They could only pray the horde would go no further than the Southron Hills.


End file.
